


Animal Freed

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Series: Love, or something like it. [1]
Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: Reggie Dwight did his very best to please his parents.  He finished school, he worked alongside his father doing the most boring desk job ever, and he started dating a wonderful woman (even if he could never remember her name.)His life was dull, but he dealt with it the best he could.Enter Bernie Taupin, and the grand adventure begins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I took this down recently, but after some editing I decided to repost. There were parts I had wanted to add before, but did not feel comfortable doing so. I hope you enjoy the ride!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited as of February 14, 2020

He should never have done it. It was a horrible idea from the very start. There was something wild inside him, something he had caged long, long ago, that kept looking for a way to escape. He flitted through his days without a sense of purpose, ensuring he seemed like the well-bred individual his ‘loving’ parents had raised: A smile here, a strong handshake there, polite small talk when all he wanted to do was run… Never allowing the wild animal within the freedom it desperately wished for. 

He knew he was not strong enough to keep it captive forever. He knew one day it would give, and there was no stopping the destruction in its wake. His very life as he knew it would be over, and that just would not do... As he stood on his balcony, leaning against the balustrade and smoking his last cigarette of the night, he wondered just how much anonymity he had left, before his world crashed around him because he just couldn’t keep up this stupid ruse of being ‘normal’ for much longer... and cursed his dreadful parents for ensuring he believed his attractions were something to fear.

He lay beside his latest fling, the name of whom he could never remember even after three months, and sighed. He wrapped his arms around her, refusing to shudder this time as she cuddled into him, the sense of  _ wrongness _ almost overtaking him. His father had said he’d grow into feeling for her. His father said that if he continued to make the effort, it would just  _ click _ at some point… 

He was beginning to wonder if anything his parents ever told him was the truth...

He closed his eyes, thinking about him, again. He couldn’t get his face out of his mind. The well kept beard that sat proudly upon the strong jawline. His long hair pulled back in a simple leather thong, looking particular masculine rather than effeminate like his father always called the long haired men he saw. His endless blue eyes that were so difficult  _ not _ to get lost in. His well-defined muscles visible through the light tee he had been wearing. 

Reggie sighed softly, a smile upon his face, as he pictured their next meeting. Fate had brought them together. Reggie could have been handed any envelope in that stack, any set of lyrics of love and sunshine and any other commercial rubbish, but instead he received lyrics that held such heart, such conviction, he felt his heart sing.

He looked forward to a strong working relationship with Bernie Taupin. He really needed to tighten the lock on the cage before their next session, though. No reason to cause needless stress upon their newfound partnership after all.

He looked down at the sleeping face of the beauty in his arms.

_ Laura? Linda? Lynne? Dammit, she’s going to punch me in the balls again in the morn… _

********************************

“And just where have you been, young man?”

Reggie groaned as he pulled the milk out of the icebox. He had hoped to have a bowl of cereal and get ready for work without the bleeding inquisition. Sheila Dwight did nothing by halves, ever… He poured milk in his bowl, intending to ignore her like he usually did in the morning, but for some reason, he gave in. “I’m not exactly young anymore, am I, mum? 21 last week... I spent the weekend at my girlfriend’s flat.” He set his bowl on the kitchen table. “You met her, remember? Linnette, I reckon?”

“I thought her name was Lydia, dear,” Ivy piped up from the sink, laughter in her voice, as she scrubbed the breakfast dishes.

“Is it really? Oops... Well, you know how flighty I can be, Nan,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “What would I do without you, eh?”

“Hopefully you don’t need to know for some years yet, my lad,” Ivy replied, pushing him towards the table. “Eat up. You’re running late as it is, Reggie.”

Sheila snorted, picking up her cup of tea with both hands. “You don’t even know the poor girl’s name, Reggie? And you’ve been seeing her for how long now? You’re worse than your father, you are... Mark my words, you are going to break that poor dear’s heart if you don’t get it together, Reggie.”

Reg nodded, schooling his features to one of sincere regret. He really couldn't care any less what the bird’s name was, after all, and didn’t truly care if he did end up breaking her heart. He was only with her to get his parents off his back. Being 21 and single was not an option for him, apparently.

It was times like this he wished he wasn’t an only child…

He shoveled the cereal down quickly, nodding in just the right places as Sheila continued to lecture him, before excusing himself to dress for work. His father would be ready to leave within minutes, and the ex-flight lieutenant had no love for tardiness.

He had no love for the entire family, really, but Reggie tried not to dwell on that fact. 

He was very glad his Nan had ironed his shirt and slacks sometime over the weekend, and had picked up his jacket from the cleaners, or his father would have ‘words’ that may make them tardy as well, and using Reggie as blame, of course.

Oh, but Reggie HATED his life. He sat upon the cot, running his hands through his thinning hair. He was meant for so much more than being a bloody draftsman like his father. He had given up his scholarship at the Royal Academy of Music after completing his A-levels with much fuss from his teacher, to begin the necessary training. He gave up his chance at the Royal Philharmonic, his place in his own band, his chance to truly live. His fingers itched to roll on the ivories again. 

He could not wait to sit at his piano that evening and work on creating the magic again. But for now he needed to fit into society's expectations and ‘adult’. He needed to make it seem like he was excited to sit at a desk, behind a typewriter, and create stuffy legal documents. His father would not stand for anything less.

He made it to the front door just before his father. Stanley nodded at him, an almost delighted look on his normally stern face. “Just make sure you are safe, Reginald. No need to bring a baby in the mix before marriage,” Stanley said, patting Reg’s back, a proud grin on his face. 

“Of course, Dad. Wouldn’t dream of disgracing the Dwight name like that,” Reg said, his eyes properly wide, his voice properly respectful, all the while wondering why his father thought he and Ly…  _ Fuck, forgot her name again… _ were having sex so early in their relationship, but decided not to ask. 

Stanley only grinned. Reggie exhaled deeply. He did not realize how tense he had actually gotten during his brief time in the house.  _ Something needs to give and soon. This can’t be good for my blood pressure…, _ he thought, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers and following Stanley out to the car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I took this down recently, but after some editing I decided to repost. There were parts I had wanted to add before, but did not feel comfortable doing so. I hope you enjoy the ride!

Reggie sat at the restaurant, sipping his ale. He did not normally drink, but he was feeling quite flustered. He had thought about nothing but this meeting with Bernie all day. Lydia had kicked him out of her flat early in the afternoon, when he was chuffed he had finally remembered her name. She said after three months that should not be so remarkable, but there they were… 

He had walked around town the rest of the afternoon, the tape of his compositions a heavy weight in his pocket. He had thought once or twice of returning home, but he would have to explain to his mum why he was not with Lydia, and he really did not wish to deal with the aftermath. His father would be quite unhappy with him, ruining the one thing that made him a man. 

He was sure her parents will tell his soon enough as it were. They disliked from the day they met. He was not looking forward to his father’s rage for ruining the relationship with one of their best clients, of course.

He sighed, flipping through the menu idly. Bernie did not seem like one to stand up a bloke, but he was getting worried he would end up dining alone. He had only met the man once so he truly knew nothing about him, except that he was handsome, very good with words, charismatic, and quite capable of uncaging Reggie’s suppressed desires if given enough time…

_ Where the bloody fuck did that come from? _ , Reggie thought, hitting his head with his fist.

“Are you quite alright, Reg?”

“Bernie!,” Reggie exclaimed, knocking over his ale in his haste to get to his feet. “Gods, I’m a frightful mess, darling. My apologies,” he said to the waitress as she quickly cleaned up the spill. Reggie looked up at Bernie, feeling his cheeks flame in embarrassment. “Well, I hope I made a good first impression last time, as I seemed to have destroyed this chance already.”

Bernie chuckled heartily. “Hardly, mate. It’s good to see you are not as perfect as you seemed last meeting,” he said, reaching over and shaking Reg’s hand. “Shall we sit?”

_ He thought I was perfect, _ Reg thought, forcing back a goofy smile.

“Ye- yes, okay,” Reg stuttered, forcing himself not to collapse upon the chair. “I’ve had a rough day, mate. My girlfriend broke up with me, and I’m dreading returning to my parents’ home with the news. They really liked her.”  _ Well, they liked the fact I was interested in a woman. They couldn’t care less about the woman herself... Not that I can say that of course…, _ he thought.

“I’ve been there. Nothing is worse than a parents’ disappointment.”

“Aye.”

The stilted conversation made Reg’s head hurt as they ate their meal. Bernie was ruggedly handsome. He moved with a grace that made Reg feel unworthy. He thought about leaning over and capturing Bernie’s full lips in his own often as he spoke, wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Learning about their childhoods, their aspirations, their full-time jobs had such a seductive quality coming from Bernie, even though it was the conversation was truly quite dull.

He found himself feeling envious of Bernie's hamburger at one point, and that was when he realized he really had it bad... 

Once Bernie asked if he had been composing long, though, the conversation became animated. Reggie loved speaking of music and his creations, even if he was not wholly proud of his accomplishments. Bernie said he was pleased with the tape Reg had made for their first meeting, which made him smile so hard his cheeks hurt long after. 

“Oh! I made another last night,” Reg said, fishing the cassette out of his pocket. “I composed ‘crocodile rock’ and ‘your song’. I wanted you to hear it and see if you had any suggestions.”

“Brilliant! Come to my flat now, then. It’s not far. I can’t wait to hear it!”

Reg felt his throat dry up. He could not go to the man’s flat! He had been thinking impure thoughts throughout the entire dinner. He did not trust himself to not make himself look a fool in front of this entirely straight man. “I… I don’t… I don’t think I can. I should… I should go deal with my parents. Yeah, that’s it. Ring me there after you’ve listened through, yeah?,” Reg said, getting to his feet quickly. He left a few notes on the table. “That should cover the bill. I look forward to hearing from you.”

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ , Reg thought, barely making it out the door without falling on his face. He could see Bernie’s face, his red lips open in surprise, as Reg bungled his way through departing.  _ You are going to fall for him, you bleeding idiot. And won’t that be just spiffing? All your life, hiding that part of you as best you could, ruined by the one man who could help you FINALLY achieve your dreams of stardom… _

Reggie stopped at the pub near his parents’ home. He decided he was much too sober to deal with his thoughts and his parents’ at the same time. If he was going to be an embarrassment to his father, he might as well make it worth his time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I took this down recently, but after some editing I decided to repost. There were parts I had wanted to add before, but did not feel comfortable doing so. I hope you enjoy the ride!

When Reg stumbled through the door to his parents’ house long after the pub had closed, he wished he had just slept on the blasted curb. His father was still awake and pacing, the overwhelming anger almost tangible in the air. Even his mum looked rather concerned for him when Stanley turned to face him, and that was when Reg knew he should run. His mother was never cared for anything but herself.

If only his body was capable of quick movements. He was properly sloshed.

Stanley stopped directly in front of him, gripping Reg’s collar with his fist. “Where have you been boy? It's bloody 3 in the morning! Your poor Nan has been worried sick about you! Your mum had to give her a bloody pill to sleep! Last weekend when you disappeared you were at Lydia’s, so your mum rang her. Come to find out you left her flat at 2 pm and no one has heard from you since! You know your curfew, and you know to fucking call! As long as you live in MY house, you will follow my rules!” 

Reggie gasped as Stanley clenched his collar almost impossibly tighter. “And another thing! You wretched boy, ruining a profitable union because you cannot control your bleeding orientation like a real man! I TOLD you what was expected of you in a relationship. I TOLD you how to make the chit happy. I gave you a bloody list of the most important things to keep a girls interest, and you throw it all away! For what? Nothing but castles in the air! Lydia’s father has pulled all business from the company, and you are to blame. I would not be surprised if you receive a termination notice upon arrival on Monday!”

“Well, that would make things much less complicated if I do, that’s for certain,” Reggie muttered, flinching when he realized he spoke aloud. He really was stupid for getting blitzed before returning home... “I mean… That’s terrible news, dad, I am ever so sor… Ugh!”

_ Well, that’s a first, _ Reggie thought, mopping his bleeding nose with his sleeve as he slid down the wall. His father had beaten him numerous times over the course of his life, with his hand and switch alike, but never had he punched him in the face. He saw the blurry shape of his mother pulling his father away from him. _Another fucking first..._

He looked down at his broken spectacles with a sigh.  _ And I really liked those too, _ he mourned. He lifted his gaze towards his father, who had begun pacing again.  _ Shite, he’s still talking. _

“... Get out of my house now, boy, and don’t even think about returning. I wash my hands of you, Reginald. You will never normal. I don't know why I bothered. I don't know why I fucking stayed here when I could have left years ago. The fact you lost your girlfriend and your job in one go does not even faze you... You are a fucking disgrace to my name. Get out now!”

Reggie scurried out the door, feeling more pitiful than ever, especially as his nose continued to bleed on his jacket. 

_ So, old fruit, was it worth it? Giving up your dream, following orders from the wretched man, and losing yourself just to get kicked out anyway?, _ Reggie thought, scuffing his shoe on the sidewalk. He sat on the curb, looking up at the starry sky, furiously blinking back his tears.  _ Not cut out to be ordinary, it seems… Maybe Nan was right all those years ago? I was meant for extraordinary things?  _ He chuckled darkly.  _ I gave up that train long ago. No need to hop on it again for more disappointment... _

He pulled his jacket taut, the chill beginning to seep into his bones. He pulled himself up, dusted himself off, and made his way down the road. He did not have any destination in mind, but any where had to be better than the curb in front of his parents’ house...

*****************

Reggie stood in front of the complex, the first envelope of writings in his hand. He checked and rechecked the address before sighing. He had made it to Bernie’s flat, just a ‘few’ hours later than he was first invited. He was sure he looked a fright, covered in blood and shivering with cold (and maybe fear), but he really did not know where else to go. He had tried the houses of a few lads he had grown up with before giving it in as a bad job… 

Being awoken at three am threw any sense of camaraderie out the window evidently…

It was now coming on three thirty am and he really needed to get somewhere indoors before his fingers fell off. He could barely even open his pocket-watch anymore. He couldn't remember ever being this cold and exhausted pre-hangover. He took a deep breath and quickly knocked on the door before he lost his nerve. 

And then had to fight the urge to flee with each passing second. When Bernie finally opened the door, Reggie was in a right state.

“Reg? It’s after three in the bloody morning…”

“Oh! Hey, Bernie… I was in the area and wanted to stop in and say hi. I could leave if ya like…”

Bernie raised his eyebrow, folding his arms across his bare chest. “In the area, eh? Well, come in then, Reg. Something tells me you need a cup of tea and a willing ear.”

“Yeah… I… I kind of do, mate,” he stammered, sliding through the doorway. “Th… Thanks.”

As Reg followed Bernie to the small sitting room, he realized this was a bad idea. Bernie slept in loose fitting shorts, it seemed.  _ Only _ loose fitting shorts. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, feeling quite unsettled as he watched the man’s hips in a way that was not entirely platonic…

“The bathroom’s through there, Reg. You can clean up your face, if you like. I’ll go steep some bags and meet you back in the sitting room. Alright?”

“Ye-yeah. Brilliant.”

“Good, good.”

Reg leaned against the bathroom door heavily. His heart felt like it was trying to jump out of his chest.  _ Get it together, Reginald _ , he scolded himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror.  _ Don’t get yourself in such a tizzy. You’re acting worse than a lovesick bird… _

If he took a bit longer than it should take to clean up, Bernie was kind enough not to comment.


	4. Chapter 4

Reg took his time cleaning up. He was flustered. He should not have come to Bernie’s flat. He should have just frozen to death in the park or something. He held his taped spectacles to his face, taking in the bruises that were popping up around his eyes from the blow. Less than a day ago he was his parents’ pride and joy, he had a girl who apparently loved him, and a meeting that could change his life forever. Now he was homeless, single, and in the apartment of a man who could be his undoing while still incredibly tipsy. He shook his head. _ What a fucking insane day…, _ he thought, grabbing his jacket on his way out of the room. 

He made his way to the small sitting room after cleaning up, feeling quite sorry for himself. He was feeling especially squeamish after all the drink, and the blood did nothing to calm his stomach. 

Seeing Bernie lay sprawled on the sofa, still bloody shirtless, nodding at the two cups of steaming tea sat upon the table like it was nothing also was no help whatsoever... 

“Chamomile. You look like you could use a taste of calm.”

“Th-thanks,” he stammered, walking towards the armchair with shaking legs. He hugged his jacket to his stomach tighter, trying to steady his racing heart. “Umm… I’m… I’m sorry for disturbing your night.”

Bernie shrugged. “Everyone needs someone sometimes. My door is always open for my friends. Though, I have to admit, you WERE the last person I expected when I opened my door, Reg.”

Reg forced a laugh. “Yes, well, I tried a few of my mates first, and apparently interrupting their sleep is a punishable offense, no matter the situation…”

“Not such great mates, then, I’d say.”

He shrugged back. “They were my mates from the academy. I haven’t spoken to them in years. My job takes… er… took a lot of my energy, so I haven’t truly been around for them either.”

Bernie tilted his head. “You had a job when we met up 7 hours ago?”

“Terminated. Well… According to my father, probably terminated come Monday.” Reggie sighed. “It’s been a rough night,” he found himself repeating.

“I’ll say. Roaming around in the early morning hours, taped spectacles, dried blood everywhere, and a broken nose to boot… None of my business, o’course, though. Drink your tea, Reg. It won’t be as calming stone cold.”

He stirred the milk and sugar into his tea, studiously ignoring the other man as he reached for his own cup. He did not want to speak of his horrid night and the fact that he was still quite nauseous. Nor did he want to be found staring as Bernie’s muscles definitely _ rippled _ when he sat up to reach for his own cup of tea. Or the way he seemed just so self-assured and moved with such grace Reg felt even more clumsy. Or the way the shorts slid slightly down his hips and revealed his toned abdominals, which made Reg’s mind go in very _ interesting _ directions... 

“Are you quite alright?”

Reggie nearly flung his spoon onto the shag rug in surprise.

“O’course, mate. Why?”

“Only, you’ve been stirring your tea for ten minutes and your face growing steadily redder…”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

Reggie cleared his throat, and he just _ knew _ his embarrassment was going to kill him at some point that night... “This is going to sound so silly, and feel free to tell me to shut up, it’s your flat and all, but could you put on a shirt?” 

Bernie raised a single eyebrow. “A shirt?”

“Ye-yes, a shirt. It’s just... You’re bloody distracting, mate, and I’m gonna lose it soon.” _ And isn’t that just brilliant? Now your stuttering voice is CRACKING like a fucking schoolboy! _

Bernie shrugged. “Why not?”

_ Yep, I’m done for, _ Reggie thought, his throat catching while he watched Bernie’s hips sway as he exited the room. _ So why do I feel so exhilarated?_

_**************************_

When Reg woke to the smell and sound of sizzling bacon he remembered why he barely drank. He found himself hugging the porcelain, emptying his stomach of all contents. He moaned miserably.  _ You are a right mess, Reginald Dwight. Way to make a good impression. Show up unannounced, broken, drunk, and bleeding, and now vomiting up everything you’ve ever eaten in your life… Real class act, you are. Fucking duffer, _ he scolded himself. 

Bernie knelt beside him, rubbing his back comfortingly, and handed him a cool washcloth. “Here, mate. I got a washcloth and some tylenol. You look like you could use ‘em.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, sitting back slowly. “Sorry for all this. Not what you expected when you let me in last night, eh?”

“You’re alright,” he said, handing Reg a glass of water and continuing to rub circles on Reg’s back. “I should have thought about your stomach before I started cooking. Like I said last night, though, everyone needs someone sometimes, and I’m happy to be that for you right now.”

Reg blushed, sipping at the water slowly. He could not remember the last time anyone had looked after him when he was unwell. Even his Nan had decided he was a grown man by 15 and could handle himself. He found himself leaning into the touch, placing his hand on Bernie’s well-developed thigh, shame coursing through his veins but unable to stop himself either. “You’re a good man, Bernie Taupin,” he murmured. 

_ Though, really, is it quite that hard to put on some damn clothes? You’re killing me, and you don’t even see it…, _ Reg thought as he got unsteadily to his feet. “May I use your phone? I need to try to get ahold of my Nan.”

“O’course. It’s in the sitting room,” Bernie said, tilting his head in confusion when Reg all but ran out of the bathroom. He shrugged. “Breakfast will be ready soon if your up for it,” he called to him.

“Ok, th-thanks,” he stammered, rotating the dial of the rotary phone with shaking fingers. He hoped his Nan would answer the phone. He really did not want to speak with his Mum or Dad with the thoughts circling his already weary head at the moment. 

He tapped the arm of the sofa, trying not to focus on the way Bernie danced in the kitchen while flipping eggs. His seemingly never ending storage of a grace (and now the compassion he showed to a near stranger) had Reg drawn to him like a moth to the flame. He was so busy trying not to look, or at least, not get caught looking, he almost missed his Nan’s voice on the receiver.

“Nan, listen, I need some help,” Reg whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you meet me at the pub with any pair of spare spectacles and a few clean outfits? It doesn’t matter what… Oh! And a jacket. Mine’s bled all over. I don’t think I am allowed at the house for a while.”

_ “ Of course, Reggie. Oh, I’m so happy to hear your voice. I was just so worried! You alright? Sheila told me what happened to you. I am not happy with that man at all.” _

“No, I’m not alright, but I will be. You know me, the fucking survivor,” he murmured, watching Bernie go to his bedroom. He fought the urge to follow. “Shite, Nan, I don’t even know what time it is…”

_ “It’s just after 10, Reggie. Meet around midday then, yes?” _

“Yes, yes, brilliant. Thanks Nan. Please don’t tell mum or dad your meeting with me. I don’t think I can see them.”

_ “Of course I won’t, Reg. And you’re welcome, darling. Love you and I’ll see you soon.” _

“Right. Love you, Nan.”

Reggie gasped when he noticed Bernie directly sitting beside him, eating his breakfast like it was no big deal at all that he had invaded his personal space. He had taken off his bloody shirt too, the git. “Right, I… I’m… I’ve got to go. Thanks for the sleep, mate. I’ll… I’ll see you at the meeting… Whenever it bloody is...”

Bernie tilted his head, looking quite amused, and Reg had never felt such anger! “Do you even have anywhere to go?”

“I’ll find somewhere.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Ye-yeah, I’m sure.”

“Alright. My door is always open.”

Reg nodded briskly as he ran to the door, almost slamming it behind him in his haste. He leaned against it, trying to regain control of himself. He would not be returning, no matter if he had no where else to go, he promised himself. He would go to his parents’ house and beg for forgiveness. He would find himself another nice desk job if he was in fact terminated. He would find a new girlfriend, make her his wife, have the 2.5 grandchildren they expect and live a bloody normal life. No music, no frills or fancies, and absolutely  _ no Bernie Taupin _ …

He felt his heart shatter at each proclamation.


	5. Chapter 5

Reg sat at the pub gingerly sipping his gin and tonic. He felt awkward sitting in the exact same stool in the same exact clothes he wore just the previous night, but the call of the drink was stronger than he ever thought possible. The burn in his throat aided in forgetting the absurdity of his life for just a moment.

He pushed his empty glass forward, silently beckoning the bartender for another. He could not bring himself to speak and ruin the tranquility he finally found. He would worry about the ramifications at a later time.

His Nan looked so out of place in the dingy pub as she made her way towards him. Reg got to his feet, the first real smile appearing on his face in weeks, as he kissed her cheek. He took his rucksack from her hands, hooking his arm through hers. He grabbed his tumbler and led her to a booth towards the back. His father would have his head if he allowed his Nan to sit at the bar. 

He would have his head if he knew he had her meet him there in the first place, however.

“What are you drinking, Reggie,” she asked, tapping his hand gently.

“Gin and tonic, Nan. It’s actually quite refreshing,” he said with a dopey smile that was not even forced. “What would you like, Nan? I’ll go up and order for you. I need a refill myself.”

“A glass of water is fine, but Reggie, your glass is still half full.”

“Half empty, Nan,” he corrected with a giggle. “I’ll be right back.”

He drained his glass on his way back to the bar, nodding at one of his now ex-coworkers. “Appreciate it if you didn’t let anyone know I was here, mate,” he said, patting the man on the back. He was on his way to being right plastered, and he loved the freedom it brought him.  _ Why didn’t I start this years ago?, _ he thought, walking back to the booth with a skip in his step. 

The disappointed look on his Nan’s face made him falter.

“Oh, Reginald, dear. Tell me what’s going on. Please?,” she asked, taking his hand in her own. “You never drink. And now you are drunk two days in a row. I am worried, Reggie.”

He looked at her earnest face. His happiness abated as quickly as it came. His darling Nan was fretting over him. That was the last thing he ever wanted. He scrubbed his face with his hand. “There’s this man. I met him through a talent agency. He is a brilliant songwriter. You know I’m shite at lyrics, Nan. Well, I received his envelope and we have been collaborating, hoping to break through in the industry.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Reggie! I was so disappointed when you left the academy! You have always had such talent that wasted in all that busywork.” 

_ She always knows how to put a smile on my face _ , he thought, grinning at her. 

“Tell me about your new friend. What’s his name?”

“Bernie Taupin. He is brilliant, kind, attrac… I mean, there’s not much to tell, really…”  _ Did I really just say that?, _ he thought, draining his tumbler. “We’ve only just met, so I don’t know him well at all.”

Ivy smirked at him over her water glass. “You were going to say attractive, Reggie, weren’t you?” He groaned, covering his face with his hands. She pried his hands from his face, looking at him more sternly than she ever had. “Darling, you know I am not your parents. You don’t have to fit perfectly in a box for me to still love you.”

“It’s not right, Nan,” Reggie whined. He looked around them to ensure they were still alone as he leaned forward in his seat. “I’m not supposed to have these feelings for another man. It’s not natural. You know I’m supposed to find the perfect wife and gift mum with grandchildren or I’ll never hear the fucking end of it.”

Ivy shook her head. “You need to live for you, Reginald, not your bloody parents.” She waved her hand. “Look where it’s gotten you, eh? Sitting in a pub in blood soaked clothes and taped glasses in a dead end job and no roof over your head. Is that where you really expected to be at your age?”

“Of course not, Nan, but it doesn’t change the fact that…”

“No, it doesn’t. But I think now is a good time for change,” she said, getting to her feet. “In that rucksack is some pounds I’ve been squirreling away. Get a room for the night. Clean up. Start fresh on the morrow. Just remember me when you get your first hit, Reginald.”

“Like I could ever forget you, Nan. You’re my everything,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Say, what do you think about the name Elton John?”


	6. Chapter 6

Reggie stood in front of the complex, once again staring at the well worn envelope in his hand. The complex looked much different in the afternoon sun, and with him just a bit more sober. He ran his fingers through his hair, not sure what he was even doing here again. He had promised himself he would stay clear of Bernie, clear of this music business, and be who he was raised to be, even if he promised his Nan otherwise.

_ Kill the person you were born to be, to be the person you want to be indeed, _ he thought, folding the envelope and putting it in his back pocket.

He sighed, picking up both his rucksack and new electric keyboard from the sidewalk. He truly hoped Bernie meant it when he said his door was always open, and he didn’t look quite the fool he felt. He stared at the doorbell, willing himself to press it, his anxiety be damned...

The door opened anyway.

Bernie leaned on the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. Reg felt his heart leap in his chest. He was glad Bernie was clothed better this meeting, but he thought it really should be illegal to keep so many buttons undone when people wear button down shirts. He licked his suddenly dry lips.

“You’re back then?,” Bernie asked, nodding at the bags in Reg’s hands. 

“‘Lo, Be-Bernie… Ye-eah, if you really don’t mind?,” Reg stuttered, cursing both his stutter and soft voice. He needed to be strong. Why couldn’t he be strong?

Bernie stepped aside. “Come in then, mate. You want a cup of tea?”

“I wouldn’t say no to something stronger,” Reggie said, slipping past him. He set his things in the corner before shucking off his jacket. “I’m sorry for stopping in again unannounced. I realized this morning I didn’t have your number to call. It’s at my parents’ house and… well, it doesn’t matter...”

“You’re alright, mate. Sit. I’ll be back in a mom’.”

Reggie sat on the edge of the sofa and buried his head in his hands. He had been doing his very best to push his current situation to the back of his mind. He had even spent most of the weekend inebriated, even though he promised his Nan he wouldn’t, unable to cope with all the changes at once. He knew he needed his wits about him when coming to see Bernie, though, so he had eventually decided to forgo the drink entirely that morning. Seeing the man again brought back all the emotions he was trying so hard to forget.

The lager set on the coffee table was a godsend.

Reg had never had a time in which he didn’t hate himself. His parents ensured he knew how disappointing he was, even when he would run himself into the ground doing all they asked of him. The only time he had any love for himself was when he was behind the keys. And now… Now even then he couldn’t bring himself to do that because making music meant  _ Bernie _ and even though he was sitting right across from him now because he was in  _ Bernie’s  _ apartment, breaking every promise he had made himself over his life, he hated himself even more for wanting to kiss him for being so sweet to him. 

No one was ever sweet to him, and he didn’t know how to handle it. 

Reggie could not quiet all of his sniffles, and he knew Bernie did not quite know what to make of him still. They were near strangers, connected by a sheet of words and a keyboard. Bernie drank his own beer in silence, watching Reg from the armchair across from him. He leaned over and handed him his handkerchief from his breast pocket when he saw Reg use his sleeve to wipe his tears.

“What happened, Reg? You show up one night, drunk, beaten, and bloody, going on about being terminated on a weekend. Leave for a full day when you said you had nowhere to go. Come back and now you’re crying on my sofa,” Bernie asked gently, tentatively, and  _ god _ how Reggie hated his compassion right now, when all he deserved was indifference. “You don’t have to tell me, o’course, but if it will make you feel better, I have been told I’m a good listener.”

Reggie groaned, leaning back in his seat. “My life is just shite right now, Bernie. I can’t make heads or tails of anything. If you knew most of it, you’d kick me out too, and right now I really have nowhere else to go, so I’d rather just drink and cry and maybe kip on the sofa for a bit, if it’s all the same to you.”

Bernie nodded. “No problem, mate. I meant what I said. I’ll just be in my bedroom if you need me, though, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Reg muttered. He took a long pull from his lager as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He kicked off his shoes and laid back on the sofa, his arms curling around the pillow still there from the first night, still smelling of Bernie’s wonderful cologne, and sobbed himself to sleep.

  
  


******************************

“Sorry to wake ya, mate, but it’s just about supper time. You should probably eat something, yeah? I wasn’t expecting company and haven’t gone to the shops, but I can run and get some takeout for us.”

Reg groaned into his pillow. Food was the last thing on his mind. “I’m good, thanks,” he forced through a yawn. He buried his face further into the pillow. “I’m jus’ gon’ sleep, mate.”

Bernie frowned down at him. He felt a deep-seated need to care for Reg which he couldn’t explain. He had since the first meeting at Dick James’s office. He was quirky and so shy it almost hurt Bernie to watch when Dick spoke over him. The look on Reg’s face showed he had expected it: no anger, no embarrassment, no confusion, just the look of someone who’s thoughts and feelings were never counted as important. 

Bernie had gathered their songs and Reg in his arms, ready to walk out and find someone who actually appreciated them,  _ him _ , when Raymond had stepped in and talked Bernie into staying. Reg had looked at Bernie with such bewilderment, wondering just why a stranger would stand up for him as he had, Bernie knew he needed to continue to do so. Reg was brilliant, even if he didn’t know it.

They had walked down to the local coffee house after, Reggie saying that alcohol did not agree with him, only to be just on the right side of tipsy when Bernie met him for dinner the following week. Then to show up properly sloshed later that night, blood stained clothes, broken eyeglasses… Nothing about it made sense, and Bernie hated things that didn’t make sense. Something had happened, and Bernie would be damned if he didn’t find out what or who hurt him.

“I’ll pick you up something anyway, just in case you change your mind, mate,” Bernie said, covering Reg with his spare blanket. “Rest easy now, love. You’re safe here.”

Bernie’s heart lifted when he saw the ghost of a smile reach Reg’s face.  _ I’ll make sure of it _ , he thought, locking the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Bernie had never felt so useless as he watched Reg sink further into depression. He had called Ray to reschedule their meeting and did not schedule another quite yet. Reg sat in front of the keyboard for hours at a time, his fingers curled around the keys, but never was able to get much farther. The music sheets set upon the keyboard still lay bare a week into his stay.

Bernie managed to get food into him every other day. He worried whenever he went to his day job that he would return to either an empty flat or a dead man on his sofa. Reg still would not tell him what was going on in his head freely, and Bernie refused to push too hard. He really wished they knew each other well enough that Bernie could feel comfortable pushing, though. He just reminded him daily that he was there for him whenever he chose to speak.

The tears that followed that proclamation never failed to make Bernie’s heartbreak.

Bernie would spend the evenings speaking to Reg about his own life in a gentler voice than he could ever remember using. He had hoped one night perhaps after soaking up as much as he could about Bernie, he might speak up about himself. Bernie usually went to bed feeling more wretched than the night before for not being able to reach him.

“I went to look at a bigger flat today,” Bernie said over supper one night. “It seems silly to have you sleep on the sofa when I have more than enough to get a bigger place for us.”

“I can’t pay you anything right now, Bernie,” Reg said, the same defeated tone of voice that seemed to carry over even now, three weeks later. Bernie was so surprised he spoke he choked on his steak. He watched as Reg moved his fork around his plate, never eating the full portions, but considerate enough to Bernie’s time and money to never leave it completely untouched.

Bernie stared at Reg for a moment, before saying “Well, I guess it’s time to get your hands on those bloody keys, then, eh?”

If Bernie had known that challenge was all it would take to get Reg to regain a zest for his music, he would have done it weeks ago. 

Reg began with the songs he had already set with music, making minor adjustments that Bernie would never have thought would sound just so  _ right. _ He was growing more in awe of Reg’s talent every night. He sat in his armchair, watching as Reg scribbled on his note sheets, his little tongue peeking out from between his lips in intense concentration, feeling something familiar, yet alien stir within him. When Reg hit the last keys of the much different rendition of  _ Your Song _ , Bernie knew they had made it.

He also knew at that moment he was drawn to Reg in a way he had never been to anyone before. When Reg stood from his seat, worrying his lower lip self-consciously, awaiting Bernie’s verdict on the song, Bernie could not stop himself from walking towards him. Reg leaned against the wall of the flat, his breathing unsteady, watching Bernie’s every move with wide eyed wonder. He gently ran his thumb across Reg’s lips, before capturing them into his own. Reg’s answering moan was all Bernie needed to make sense of all the signs since their first meeting. 

_ Blindingly obvious now, though, old fruit, _ Bernie thought, entwining their hands together. “Bed?,” Bernie asked, looking into Reg’s lust-filled eyes for the affirmation he knew he would receive. Reg only nodded, too shocked to speak and more than happy for Bernie to take the lead. He always would let Bernie take the lead.

Their second meeting with Dick weeks later went much better than their first. Ray must have ensured Dick knew Bernie was serious about finding another company if he did not treat them with the respect they,  _ Reg _ , deserved. Bernie almost felt like a mother-bear in his fierce need to protect Reg from the outside world.

The Troubadour wouldn’t know what hit it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few minor changes from the original for this chapter. Bernie seems like an asshole in this chapter, but I promise there is more to it than it seems.

_ We have to be normal here, Reg. We have to be just two straight blokes excited for our big break, alright? _

_ You’re brilliant, Reg. Absolutely brilliant, and I hate this as much as you. But our sleeping arrangements are everything now, mate. If anyone finds out, we are ruined before we even begin. You don’t want that, do you? _

Of course he didn't fucking want that. He knew what the media could do to him if word got around he liked to sleep with men. He himself didn't fucking care, of course, but Bernie did, and that's what mattered.

_ This is Heather… _

_ I’m going to go out to a teepee with Heather… _

Elton crushed the empty solo cup in his hand.

_ You’ll be okay, won’t you? _

_ Of course I’m not bloody okay, Bernie, but I’ll deal with it like always, won’t I? _ , Elton thought darkly, even if  _ Yeah, o’course _ came out of his traitorous mouth. 

They had finally made it. Their hard work brought them here, to Los Angeles, where Elton played his first live gig at the Troubadour. Never had he felt such great joy! The ‘high’ he heard other performers speak of was not a lie, he felt like he could take on the world! Bernie was so pleased with the performance too Elton felt like his heart could burst with all the emotion.

Then he introduced Elton to  _ Heather. _

In the months they had been working together, they had walked the thin line of friendship and maybe something  _ more _ . The unspoken  _ thing _ between them, after their first night exploring each other’s bodies, led to many more totally intoxicated romps. Elton had allowed himself to believe that maybe,  _ just maybe _ , it was not all the drink and drugs that led them to bed after that first, wonderful, _sober_ night. That now they had proved themselves to the industry, now that they had everything they worked so hard to achieve, it would be time to make things official, even if Bernie had been pretty adamant about not even  _ hugging _ him since they had been the states.

Then Bernie had to go off to fucking teepee with  _ Heather _ and ruin the wondrous dream he had for the evening.

He was sitting on the stoop, another drink in hand, feeling quite pitiful when John Reid sat beside him. If he had known exactly what the man was after, and the life he would have as a shiny accessory, he would have run. 

Loneliness does strange things to a man who only wants to be loved.

********************

It had started small.  _ You should be eating a salad, Elton, not that bacon sandwich. You want to make sure your costumes fit well, don’t you love?  _ And  _ I’m not really sure if it is best for you to go out tonight, love. I know they are your mates and you miss them, but I’m not able to accompany you. You really should be working on some new songs. Remember, only I know what’s best for you, darling. _ And  _ Bernie is only jealous, love. He had his chance, and he lost it. He is trying to fill your head with lies so you will leave me, and return to him. You have to see that, Elton? I love you with all that I am. He won’t even call you your chosen name. How is that truly a friend?  _ And  _ your family will never understand you, there is no reason to keep contact with them. They did not want you to succeed, remember? And now that you have, they just want to reap the rewards of your sweat and tears. _

_ He’s right, of course, _ Elton would tell himself.  _ John wants me to succeed and is doing all he can to help. I am a foolish man without direction. Bernie doesn’t understand our relationship or what I need. John is right.  _

And so he ate those salads, spent many an hour behind his piano pumping out albums at the speed of light, missed his Nan with all his heart, and never returned Bernie’s calls other than to say he received the lyrics, thanks.

But then the words became coarser, the touches became rougher, and Elton felt his world crash into itself when he received the first of many broken bones. 

John would apologize and cuddle him close during the night.  _ I wish you would just listen to me, love. I know what’s best for you. It would be so much simpler if you just listened _ , he would say, kissing away his tears. And Elton would promise through shaking sobs that he would listen, he’d be good, and  _ please don’t leave me! _

Because at that point, after all of John’s subtle manipulations, John was all he had left. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much the same as the original for those who read it before.

Bernie knew the moment he entered the teepee he had fucked up. The reality of the situation crashed down upon him the moment she pulled his shirt out of his trousers, her teeth nipping gently at his lips. He watched as her long, slender fingers made quick work of his button down and realized as beautiful as she was, as wonderful as she seemed in the few hours he had spent with her, she was not whom he should be spending his evening with. He had grasped her hands in his own, lacing their fingers together. He stared at them for a moment, trying so hard to get passed the fact they were not Reg's, before bringing them to his mouth, kissing them softly. 

They were not the hands of the one he loved.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered, buttoning his shirt with unsteady hands. “I… I can’t do this.”

“What? Why?,” she had asked, stepping forward to kiss him again. She frowned when he ducked under her arms. “We were having such a good time, babe. It was going to get even better, too. Why the sudden change? Did I do something wrong?”

Bernie only shook his head, unwilling to put his musings into words. He did not _ want _ to make it real. He did not want to make the disturbing realization that he was actually _ in love _with Reggie a reality. That it was not just an animalistic need to dominate and fuck and it was just Reg was who was there. 

He could not be a queer. He was a country boy. It was just not done. He grabbed his jacket, gave one last murmured apology, because she really did look dejected, and all but ran out of the teepee.

He should have looked around for Reg before leaving the party. He did do a quick, cursory glance around the sea of people to make himself feel like a good mate before withdrawing. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walked down the long dirt road. He was not quite sure how far he was from the hotel, but could not find it in himself to try to find a ride. He was a fucking disgrace.

***********************

Bernie stopped just short of the hotel room door. He was exhausted, filthy, and starving. He ready for a hot shower and room service before sleeping for the next ten years. He heard Reg’s voice, the familiar moans making Bernie shiver, mingling with unfamiliar yet masculine grunts of pleasure. He rested his forehead on the door, feeling tears begin to pool in his eyes. He had well and truly fucked up. Reg was in bed with another man. 

He told himself he was thankful Reg was enjoying himself. It was his night, after all. He was so brilliant and deserved to be cared for, to have fun, even if it was not by him.

He never did quite believe it, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself...

He trudged down the front desk, using the last of his American bills for a room of his own. He collapsed on the bed upon entering the room, hiding his head under the pillow. He found himself wondering if Reg would notice he never returned, or if he was too ‘busy’ to care. 

_ Jealousy will get you nowhere fast, Bernie Taupin, _ he scolded himself.

*********************

Bernie found himself on the outside looking in. Busloads of people now followed them on the road making their music. Their personal relationship over the years, their friendship even, was nonexistent. It seemed Reid did everything he could to ensure they were never alone. Bernie watched Reg’s decline with a great frustration. The drink and the drugs were slowly killing him. Reg’s transformation into Elton John cost more than either of them had gained. He had broken every promise he had made himself when he tucked Reg in that night.

_ Is it worth it, Reg? _, Bernie had asked one night, the last night he followed the tour, leaning against the wall of the dressing room, his arms folded across his chest. Reid was busy for once, and Reg had ‘asked’ the hangers-on to give him some space to breathe.

_ What d’ya mean, Bernie?, _ he had asked, putting down his makeup brush. He had turned to face him and Bernie had flinched. The bewilderment on his face was almost more than Bernie could stand.

_ This, _ he had asked, waving his hand at him. _ Success. Is losing yourself worth it? _

_ I’ve not lost myself, Bernie. I have finally found myself. I am finally at one with every part of myself. If you were truly my friend you would stop digging up the past, understand I am no longer 'Reg', and be happy for me._

_ How can I be happy when you are killing yourself, Reg? When you show up for the shows worse off than you were the day before, your nostrils dark from the powder? When your costumes are hanging off of you because you won’t keep anything down? When the bruises are getting harder to hide? When you have to rearrange the music because you have broken fingers and… _

_ Get out… _

_ Reg, I… _

_ Get out, Bernie… _ _ John was right… He’s always right... Just write the fucking lyrics, Bernie! Let me deal with the rest! _

Bernie could feel his heart break as he was pushed out of the room the door slammed with finality. Reid shouldered past him into the room, and Bernie shuddered at the almost inhuman scream that followed. He had tried to re-enter, finding the door locked. 

He got on the next plane back to Los Angeles that night.

******************

Bernie had tried to keep himself busy. He remodeled parts of his ranch, and cleared the overgrown brush. He planted a vegetable garden. He bought horses. He sent Reg lyrics by mail. He tried to keep his mind occupied, tried to forget he lost his best friend, the other part of his soul, and sometimes he succeeded. 

Nothing kept him distracted for long.

‘Elton John’ was everywhere: on the radio, on television, in the newspapers and magazines, Reid always by his fucking side. He was even the first thing people asked about when they learned his name… He went on a handful of dates that usually left him a rage, and spent the remainder of the evenings swigging more alcohol than his body could withstand.

The phone calls grew shorter and farther apart, until it was just ‘I got the lyrics, thanks.’ 

Bernie stopped answering the phone. He stopped leaving his house. He stopped writing lyrics for Reg. He stopped caring about life.

He just stopped.


	10. Chapter 10

When Bernie awoke to the god awful banging on his door just after two in the morning, he could not help the memories that flitted through his mind. He groaned, burying his face deeper into his pillow. He thought he was drunk enough when turning in that he wouldn’t get lost in the past. He was much too old to be receiving visitors this late at night. He hoped with enough time the unwanted visitor would cease and leave him to his solitary existence.

His wish was not granted.

Bernie groaned again, pushing himself out of his bed. He reached blindly for the shirt he had hung on his desk chair just the  _ bloody hour before _ . He tied his long hair back in a semblance of order before padding barefoot towards the front door. He had an inkling as to who his unwanted visitor would be, but refused to keep much hope. Reg had made it clear months ago he wanted nothing to do with him any longer.

“I’m bloody coming… Jesus,” he called out as the knocking began again. He opened the door with more force than he intended, ready to scream at whoever thought it prudent to wake him at such a disgusting hour. His mouth dropped open in surprise. “Reggie?”

Reg stood on the stoop just as he did all those years ago, a rucksack sitting at his feet. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his trousers, his shoulders hunched in like he was trying to escape anyone’s notice. Even the bruises on his face and blood on his shirt was the same. “Elton, Bernie,” he said, rather grumpily. “Why can’t you ever call me Elton? I legally changed it everything.”

“You’ll always be Reg to me, mate,” Bernie murmured, reaching down and picking up his rucksack as Elton walked through the doorway. “I should have known it would be you. No one else would be so inconsiderate come calling after midnight.”

Elton shrugged. “What can I say? I live to meet expectations.”

Bernie snorted, setting the rucksack on his kitchen table. “Right, mate… The bathroom is through that door way if you want to clean up a little. I’ll go ahead and make a cuppa and it will be just like old times.”

“Got any liquor, Bernie? It’s been a rough night.”

Bernie laughed heartily, slapping Elton on the shoulder gently. “Yep, definitely just like old times.”

Elton snorted. “Yeah. Wonderful, innit?,” he asked, the darkness in his voice silencing Bernie’s laugh. Elton sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Sorry, mate... I’ve just… I’ll be back in a moment.”

Bernie nodded, watching Elton stumble towards the bathroom.  _ Things are never simple with him, are they?, _ Bernie thought, opening his cupboards, trying to find enough liquor to soothe whatever darkness Elton brought with him this time.  _ They haven’t been since our first meeting. _

Bernie had just set the bit of liquor he had left on the table when Elton emerged from the bathroom. He collapsed at the table, accepted the beer with a murmured thanks. Bernie sat down, watching Elton take long pulls from the bottle as he blinked back tears. He itched to take him in his arms as he had all those years ago, before he fucked everything up, and Elton ended up hurt and scarred in all ways.

“I left him,” Elton sobbed. “He doesn’t know yet, but I’ve left him.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t know?,” Bernie asked, reaching for Elton’s hand. He flinched when Elton snatched it away before Bernie could reach it.  _ Well deserved, _ he thought, folding his hands in his lap.

“Well, normal people are asleep after midnight, o’course. He’ll find the letter when he gets up in the morn’. Don’t worry, I’m not staying here. This will be the first place he looks for me. I just wanted to let you know.”

“You can stay here, Re-Elton.”

Elton shook his head. “No, no, I can’t, Bernie. You know I can’t. I can’t be around you without  _ remembering _ and that is the last thing I need right now. I need to get away for a while, without you and definitely without John.” Elton drained the rest of the bottle. “You are the first person I ever loved, Bernie, even if what we did meant nothing to you.”

“Of course it meant something to me, Elton.”

“Of course it did, Bernie.” The patronizing tone Elton used threw Bernie completely. “And that’s why the very moment it suited you, you left me. Some girl you had just met was much more important to you. It’s okay to admit it, Bernie.” Elton waved his hand dismissively. “It’s okay that I was just your experiment. Most guys need to do that at least once. I’ve made peace with it long ago.”

“Elton, you can’t honestly believe that? I love you!”

“Of course I believe that, Bernie. Why would anyone truly love me? It’s no matter, though, as I’ve said. There’s no reason to keep up the ruse all these years later.” He got to his feet. “I’ll contact you at some point. Just wanted to keep you in the loop for now.”

Bernie sat hours later, staring at the front door. “What did Reid do to you, Reg? And how can I bloody fix it?”


	11. Chapter 11

** _Elton John to take a year off of touring…_ **

Bernie gazed at the unopened envelope laying innocently beside his beer. It had been sitting in the same spot for a full week. Bernie just could not bring himself to open it.

** _Elton John hard at work on a new album. Sources say long time friend and lyricist Bernie Taupin will not be contributing this time. We have to wonder why…_ **

Bernie glared at the envelope, addressed to Sheriff Bernie Taupin in the familiar chicken scratch that used to make his heart leap when he saw it. Now he wanted to burn it.

** _Elton John breaks from long time music manager, John Reid, citing creative differences…_ **

Bernie snorted. _ Creative differences? More like self-entitled prick finally gets sacked for ruining my best friend and my lives, _ he thought, running his finger over the corner of the offending envelope. _ ME _, was all it said in the box, because why on earth would more detail be needed?

** _Elton John leaves hospital after a terrible chest infection. Sources close to the star state it was much more serious than ex-manager leads us to believe..._ **

_His immune system has always better than everyone I know, even before he started the drink and drug_, Bernie thought. _Chest infection my ass..._

He sighed, finally tearing open the letter. 

_ Wotcher Bernie, _

_ Since you stopped answering the bloody phone months ago (and I mean, really? Why have one at all if you aren’t going to fucking answer it? Waste of good money, Bernie. I thought you would have better sense than that with all your talk about finances...) I have resorted to writing you this blasted letter instead. I really don’t even know where to start here, and words really aren’t my thing, so bear with me, if you will. _

_ When I came to visit you, I said some things I shouldn’t have. I placed a good amount of blame on your shoulders, when really, I’m the fuck up. I have always been the fuck up. You are brilliant, and have done everything you could for me since the day we met. Who else would take in a near stranger on the verge of suicide with no questions asked? _

_ I am back in the states and stopped by your house last week. It looks brilliant in the daylight hours. You even bought your horses, just like you used to dream about. The stable boy said you had stepped out to the market with your girlfriend, and he didn’t know when you would be back. I found myself unable to stay and ruin what bit of peace you may finally have since I booted you out of my life. _

_ I don’t know if you have been reading the papers, but I kept my word and have stayed away from John. It took me a damn long time to realize just how fucked up our relationship was. I am ashamed at how far I let it go, Bernie. That night when I showed up at your house was the last fucking straw. I am NOT going to go into detail, because I am still trying to forget all about that horrid night. He caught me on the phone with my Nan. He broke every bloody phone in MY house, then beat me until I apologized for going against his wishes. Then he called over ‘friends’ like I was some damn rentboy to prove I was truly sorry. He fucking hurt me and had me hurt for talking to my Nan, Bernie. _

_ The legal side of things are taking a bit longer, but they should be done soon enough. _

_ I miss him. A lot. But I’ve been told it will get easier, someday. _

_ Bernie, I miss you. I have made a lot of mistakes, but losing you is the worst thing I have done. You asked me if it was worth it. If success was truly worth it. I acted like I didn’t understand. I did not want to want to admit that it wasn’t. I didn’t want to admit that perhaps being Reggie Dwight would have been better. But it isn’t worth it, Bernie. It’s not worth it without you. _

_ I’ll be calling again on Monday. Maybe this time you’ll answer? If not, I'll continue to call every bloody Monday until you fucking answer. _

_ Always yours, _

_ Elton _

_And I yours, Reggie... Always,_ Bernie thought, running his fingers through his hair.

Bernie sat at the kitchen table, the letter open beside him, sipping lazily at his lager. He still wanted to burn it. He wanted to burn anything associated with Reg even now, but he also found himself cherishing the fact that Reg found a way to reach out when Bernie had still not wanted to be found. Reg always was someone who went out of his way to make his voice heard when he wanted to.

He did not know what to do with all the information on the page. He was glad Reg had finally saw sense and left Reid in both personal and business ventures. He had always been fearful that when Reg finally broke off their personal relationship he would still keep Reid on as his manager. Reid would wheedle Reg down until they were back in the sack and he was back to controlling his every move. At least he did not have to have that worry any longer. 

He had known that Reg did not have a bloody chest infection, no matter how well Reid sold it to others. His drug abuse had gotten so bad he could not make it more than 4 minutes without a hit of something. He had had seizures before. Quite a few, really. He would just be rolled over and within 40 minutes was snorting lines like nothing had happened. It really was only a matter of time before his heart tried to give out.

He did wonder where he got the idea he had a girlfriend, though. He hadn’t been on a date in months. 

He stretched, feeling suddenly exhausted. His brain did not know what to do with all the information and the feelings that accompanied it. He had not slept in days, nor had he had a good sleep in months. He finished his lager and headed to his bedroom. He didn’t know where Reg was, but he seemed safe. He would get some rest, and figure out the rest when he woke up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings galore. Read with caution.

When Monday _ finally _ rolled around Bernie was in a right state. He had tried to keep himself occupied while waiting for the dreaded yet highly anticipated call, but he came to the harsh realization just how empty his life had become without Reg. Which in turn would of course bring Reg to the forefront of his mind _ again _, and he would begin to fret like the old mother-hen Reg accused him of being so often. 

Whenever he shut his eyes he saw Reg sitting across from him in the kitchen. He saw the pain in Reg’s eyes, the blood on his fancy clothes, the bruises that could not be covered (He tried not to think about the bruises and pains that _ were _ covered. When he did, he found himself drinking even _ more _ excessively. When it came to Reg, he always seemed to lose his any sense of moderation), and cursed himself for allowing him to leave without anything worked out between them. 

He sat beside the telephone trying to focus on his writings. He wished Reg had left a time on the letter he would be calling. Bernie hadn’t left the sofa in hours, not even willing to venture into the kitchen for water. He would not miss Reg’s call. He would not fail him again. He finally threw his notepad on the coffee table. His thoughts were so scattered nothing he was writing made sense. He lay back on the sofa with a sigh.

The same sofa Reg slept on for weeks before he finally bought himself a bed for their flat. The same sofa that they had cuddled on while watching cheesy romantic films, sharing soft kisses and gentle strokes, learning all about each other. Reg was so pliant then, willing to do just about anything to please Bernie. Bernie had felt the thrill of power over him, taking sweet care of him, being needed in a way he had never been before. He had been given such a wonderful gift in Reg. He should have known that in the wrong hands that it would no longer be a gift, but a curse for Reg. He was responsible for the madness Reg's life had become.

Bernie ran his fingers over the cheap velour material, feeling the tears he had been holding back for weeks begin to surface once again. _Over the bloody sofa now, Bernie? Really?,_ he scolded himself.

It was mid-afternoon, and still no call.

Bernie wiped his eyes angrily with his hand. He was about to give it up as a bad job and just kip on the sofa, when it finally rang.

“R-Elton?”

_ “Yeah, mate. It’s me. So you remember how a telephone works, I see. I was worried you had forgotten in your old age.” _

“You’re older than me, you git. I never bloody forgot. I just... didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

_ “Right. Well, I would like to meet up, if your game.” _

“Of course. When and where?”

_ “Well, I’m kind of outside your house now. John left that bloody mobile he always had stuck to his ear, and I decided it was mine. He’s still paying the bill, too. Least he could do, the arsehole.” _

“I’ll meet you at the door then, mate.”

Bernie sighed in relief, forcing himself to walk calmly to the door. The smile on his face was so wide it hurt after months of such melancholy. He swung the door open, wrapping his arms around Reg. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Reg! Come in, come in!”

Reg smirked at him. “You know, most people ensure they are fully clothed when they open their door to a guest. But not the great Bernie Taupin, eh? I know you own shirts. I’ve bought you plenty,” he said, ducking through the doorway. “Though, even in your old age your pecs are still second to none.”

“I’m not even forty yet, you tosser,” Bernie said. “You on the other hand are very close to that threshold and I don’t poke fun at you.”

“It’s because I’m perfect, Bernie, so you have nothing to take the piss about, mate. The sooner you see that the better off you’ll be,” Elton said, taking one of the largest flasks Bernie had ever seen out of his suit jacket. He raised it in the air. “You didn’t have the good stuff last time, Bernie, so I figured I’d bring my own. Hope you don’t mind and all that jazz.”

Bernie only nodded, because he really didn’t know what to say in return. “You’ve never actually been here, have you? Just sat in the kitchen?” Reg nodded his head. “The sitting room is through there. I’ll grab a drink and meet you there?”

“Sure, Bern,” he said.

Bernie sighed, leaning against the wall. This was going to be a difficult meeting. Over-confident Reg was always the side of his best mate Bernie had the most trouble with. He worried his lower lip as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. He poured himself a glass of water, not wanting to fuck his second chance up by having alcohol in his system.

He ran into Reg in the doorway.

“You alright, Reg?”

“You kept the sofa,” he said softly, still unmoving.

“Yeah, I did. Seemed silly to rid it just because I could afford another. It is still in good condition even now.”

“No other reason?”

“Nah, course not.”

Reg only hummed, entering the room proper. He pointedly sat in the armchair, as though not sitting on the sofa, and the memories associated with it, would make it not exist. Bernie shook his head, collapsing on the sofa himself.

“So… You wanted to talk?,” Bernie asked after a bit of silence.

“You didn’t have to put a shirt on on my account, mate,” he said, after a long pull from his flask. “It’s your house, of course.” Reg sighed when Bernie didn’t respond. “Yeah, yeah… I wanted to talk.”

The silence was awkward, painful, as Bernie waited for Reg to set his thoughts in order. It usually was when Reg this deep into the bottle long before the sun had even set, but Bernie waited patiently. Reg did not like to be interrupted.

“I was thinking about before… Before all this... How hard I thought I had it, ya know? I was so depressed I barely left that bloody couch. You stayed with me. You never pushed, but kept me alive. You’ve always given me life, Bernie, I was just too blind to see it. Or maybe too drunk. I don’t know.” 

He took a long pull from his flask again. Bernie longed to take it away from him, but did not want to break Reg’s concentration. “I blamed you for John, you know, in my head. I told myself if you hadn’t left that night with Heather, I wouldn’t have gone with him. I wouldn’t have spent the last decade or so as a play thing, dying inside more and more each day. But I think John would have found a way to manipulate me whether you had stayed or not. He told me a few years ago that after my show at the troubadour, he knew I had to be his. I was both lonely and clueless in the workings of relationships. I’ve told you about my parents, of course, and you can’t say our relationship was very healthy back then either.”

“No, it really wasn’t,” Bernie murmured.

“I just wanted to be loved, Bernie. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. John professed love for me. He said he loved me when we were happy, and he said he loved me as he kissed the bruises and welts he dealt me. He said he loved me when we were alone, and he said he loved me during the fucking orgies he would orchastrate. I believed him, of course. How could I not? I just wanted to be fucking loved.”

Bernie finally let the tears he had been holding back for months fall.

“He had full control of me. I stopped talking to you. I stopped talking to my mates from the academy. I stopped talking to my mum and Nan. I was only allowed to talk to him and the few people he associated with. He would throw these huge parties at my fucking house, and lock me away in our rooms with enough coke and booze to keep me occupied and pliant enough in the off chance he decided to throw someone in there with me. You can probably imagine how much money people would throw at John for the chance to bed the wonderful Elton Hercules John… Anyways, he would hold me on those nights, kiss away my tears, tell me I was just wonderful and how he was just so proud and how much he loved me, and regain control of my heart and soul so easily it sickens me now.”

Bernie sat up, unable to lay still any longer.

“I dealt with it. I dealt with all of it, because when I realized just how toxic the relationship was I had lost everyone I held dear. That was when I realized the shite I thought my life was way back when? Yeah, didn’t hold a candle to what I had then. I got a letter from my mum, saying my Nan was feeling poorly. At her age it is distressing. So I waited for John to fall asleep and I called home. He caught me on the phone in his office. And well... you saw me afterwards.”

“You said he invited some ‘mates’ over that night?”

Reg took another pull from his flask before answering. “Oh yes, it was a grand adventure. My maid told me before I left that night she had slipped some of John’s drugs in their water when she couldn’t handle my screams anymore. I am quite thankful, though rather worried, that John had ‘date rape’ drugs in my house still, even now that he’s been gone for months.

“Anyways, I flew to Pinner, got into a fist fight with my dad, and brought my mum and Nan to LA.”

Bernie spit out of his water. “You got into a fist fight?”

“Well, I didn’t say I won, did I?”

They both laughed heartily.

“Reg, I… Thank you for being so upfront about everything. You have never been one to speak of the past so candidly. I am so sorry you went through all that alone. I should have been there. I should have tried harder...”

“Oh, Bernie, I think if you tried harder, mate, I would have written you off and probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I still should have done something.”

“What’s done is done. I’m working through it still, the best that I can. But Bernie, I… I can’t do it without you. I don’t want to do it without you.”

Bernie shrugged. “Then you won’t, love.”


	13. Chapter 13

“So your living with your mum again? How’s that working out for you?”

“Ugh… I forgot just how terrible she is. She really liked John, you know? She only saw the charismatic side of him. The side that draws people to him like moths to a flame. She loves him a hell of a lot more than me. She goes around all day and night saying she wished he were her son and how I ruined my life by splitting with him, and refuses to hear anything rotten about him. Drives me and Nan spare, she does,” Elton said, cuddling closer to Bernie’s side. “But she has had it difficult with my dad all these years. I never really saw it before I went back home, ya know? I just thought she was the fucking ice queen, the heartless monster who groomed me into who I was when I met John, when really, my dad made her that way. She needs some time to heal herself, so I’m giving it to her, no matter how hard it is for me.”

Bernie held Elton tighter in his arms. They lay upon his bed, their limbs entwined. He kissed Elton’s forehead. “You have such a big heart, Elton. So ready to forgive everyone who has hurt you. I wish I mine was half as big as yours. You are truly one of a kind.”

Elton buried his face in Bernie’s shoulder, inhaling Bernie’s familiar scent. “It’s really hard, but she’s my mum. I mean, what else could I do now that I knew she was suffering like me for so many years? She may have wished I had never been born, but most of the time I am thankful she bore me. It’s no big thing.”

“But it is, love. It really is. But remember if it gets too difficult for you, you are always welcome here, Elton. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

“Thank you, Bernie. I don’t deserve you.”

“It is I that doesn’t deserve you, Elton.”

Elton chuckled, closing his eyes. “We are a right mess, Bernie. I… I want to deserve you, though. I want to deserve your love, Bernie. Will you help me?”

Bernie ran his fingers through Elton’s hair, smiling when Elton purred in pleasure, just as he had all those years ago. “You already do, Elton. You always have, and you always will, but I will help you believe you deserve it, if you like?”

Elton nodded into Bernie’s chest. “Laying here with you petting me is making me sleepy, Bernie. If we don’t get up soon I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Nothing wrong with that, love. You haven’t truly rested in weeks, if not months, have you? You have had so much stress in your life in such a short period of time I’m surprised you are even able to function at all. If you want to rest, it’s okay, love. Do you want to rest?” Elton nodded again, his face reddening. “Then rest, darling. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll be by your side as long as you want me to be, Elton, as I should have been from the start. I want to feel as though I deserve you, too. We can work on that together, my love, if you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind at all, Bernie.”

****************

“I… I should go home and check in with my Nan. It’s been two weeks now and I think the phone calls just aren’t enough for her anymore,” Elton said, his hands trembling around his cup of coffee. “I’m worried for her, Bernie. I’m even fretting about my mum. But I hate going back to my house and all the fucking memories associated with it.”

“I could go with, if you like?,” Bernie said, taking the cup from his hands before he dropped it. He entwined their fingers together, gently bringing Elton to his side. He wrapped his arms around him, soothing him as Elton tried to hold back his tears. “You don’t have to be alone anymore in this, love. You don’t have to hold back your emotions. You’ve been so strong for so long, and I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished. It’s okay to let go now, love. Let go, Elton. I’ve got you.”

When Elton buried his face into Bernie chest, grasping the lapels of his jacket with such strength, Bernie held him tightly. He would be Elton’s rock as long as he was allowed to be. 

Until he could stand on his own again.

******************

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest Bernie ever had. Elton was skittish most of the time, seemingly waiting for a blow that would never come. Bernie did his best to moderate what Elton put in his body when he stayed with him, as Elton admitted not being strong enough to do so himself. When Elton returned to his house to check in on his family, Bernie found himself unable to sleep, staring at the phone that thankfully never rang.

It was much more difficult being Elton’s rock than he thought it would be.

Elton would return to the ranch when the memories became too much for him. He would cling to Bernie throughout the first day back, pale and trembling, unwilling to let Bernie out of his sight. Bernie weathered through the storms with grace Elton felt he did not deserve, but was thankful for nonetheless.

He really loved that man.

“Mum is having lunch with John today,” Elton said, watching Bernie eat breakfast one morning. Elton had not been able to stomach food in days. “She wanted to have him over my house, and I told her if he set foot on my property she would be booted out that moment. I don’t understand why she has to keep him around, Bernie.”

Bernie set down his fork. “She is a spiteful woman, Elton. Perhaps it’s best to cut her out anyway. You’ve done all you can to help her, love, and give her a good life, yet she continuously does shit like this to you. It’s not healthy.”

“Do you really think I should? I won’t be a terrible person?”

Bernie’s heart broke. “No, love, you will not be a terrible person for putting yourself and your happiness first. You deserve better than that.”

Elton only nodded. Bernie hoped one day he would believe him.

*************

Elton spent many hours sitting at his piano, his fingers curled around the keys. He wanted to create something magical. He was tired of feeling useless, flitting from his house to Bernie’s ranch, not accomplishing anything but more heartache. He would stare at the sheets Bernie would leave behind, tears in his eyes, knowing most of the lyrics were written about him, _ for him. _

He wondered when he would be able to allow Bernie in fully. He wondered many a time if John had actually broken him over his years as his plaything. He wondered if John even thought about him still, now that he was not at the center of his life. If he was missed. He wondered if any of the times John said he loved him if he meant it, or if it was just part of the pure, unadulterated manipulation he was so good at.

The latest lyrics Bernie placed before him were so full of truth it made Elton flinch. He forced his fingers to move, his voice carrying just a bit louder than he originally intended. Bernie needed to know he was right. Bernie needed to know he truly did understand the inner workings of Elton’s mind. And Elton needed Bernie to know just how much he appreciated the care he showed him, even when Elton was at his worst.

“I want love, but it’s impossible. A man like me, so irresponsible. A man like me is dead in places…,” he sang, tears falling from his eyes. He wiped them away angrily with his sleeve. “You fucking arse, getting it right in one,” he muttered, getting to his feet and grabbing the page hastily. He entered the sitting room, the page crushed in his fist, the stupid tears still falling from his eyes. “‘So bring it on, I've been bruised. Don't give me love that's clean and smooth. I'm ready for the rougher stuff. No sweet romance, I've had enough’…,” Elton said, throwing the page at Bernie. 

“Was it something I said?,” Bernie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elton growled. He sat on Bernie’s lap, taking his chin in his hand. Their kiss was not sweet nor kind like their recent kisses. It was much more like their kisses in the very beginning. It was a mashing of teeth and tongue, nips and bites, and ending with Bernie bringing him to bed and marking Elton's whole body with almost animalistic abandon. It was a night filled with a fiery passion Elton could not remember ever feeling before. It was everything Elton had wanted and needed. 

Their life would never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the time jumps. I hope the story flowed well enough that I'm forgiven.
> 
> And yes, I know I want love was released in 2001. It seemed fitting to use it here though. My apologies if my timeline offends anyone...


	14. Chapter 14

Elton knew it would not last. As glorious as their relationship was, Bernie was as insecure about his sexuality as he was years ago. When they left the house together Bernie ensured not even their fingertips touched where people could see them. The intensity of their relationship was terrifying really, even to Elton, but Elton could not handle Bernie’s need to keep appearances while they were out and about. He wanted to be everything Bernie wanted and needed, but he just... fell short in most ways. It was only a matter of time before Bernie realized their relationship could not continue. Elton knew he would never recover from that blow.

So Elton fled before Bernie could give it.

Bernie awoke one morning to an empty bed. He was confused, as Elton rarely woke before noon. As he walked around his house, he noticed most of Elton’s belongings were gone as well. He ran his fingers through his hair. He had thought things were going quite brilliantly, just to wake up and find every bit of Elton completely gone perplexed him.

He sat on the sofa. He had never planned for this scenario. He knew Elton would grow tired of him sooner or later, especially as he had grown exponentially stronger both emotionally and physically as the months went on, but he had expected to at least be told before Elton left. He thought he at least deserved that much after their history together.

_ Maybe if I go back to sleep I’ll wake up and realize this was just a nightmare _ , Bernie thought, grabbing his pack of beer from the fridge. He made his way back to his bedroom, ready to drink himself to sleep. _ Yes, just a bloody nightmare. He wouldn’t do this to me. _

He never quite believed himself.

******************

Bernie needed answers. He could no longer deal with the myriad of emotions that had overtaken him during the weeks in which Elton had just disappeared. He knew from Ivy that he was at his house from the many times Bernie called, but Elton refused to take the phone. She said he barely left his set of rooms, and refused to speak to her or Sheila either. But he was alive, if not well, and for that Bernie was thankful.

He sat in his truck glaring at Reid’s car sitting innocently in the driveway. Bernie fought the urge to turn his truck around and forget all about Elton and the bullshit his life had become. He imagined throwing a rock through the window and allowing the pouring rain ruin the upholstery, and felt lighter than he had in weeks. He trudged up to the front door of Elton’s manor, his trembling hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, quietly cursing Ivy for never mentioning Reid coming around in their weekly phone calls, especially when she mentioned Elton had bought a new house just for her and Sheila to live in over an hour away. He should have known there was more to it than she let on. He certainly wouldn’t be here now if she had made it known

He used his key to let himself in, not wanting to wait to enter. He was vexed enough without being made to wait in the storm.

He made the familiar trek to Elton’s set of rooms, ignoring the wide eyed looks he was receiving from the help. He was certain he looked a fright, but couldn't care less. He had a bad feeling about Reid’s car being in the driveway after Elton had kicked him out months ago, and the fact that one of the maids had tried to stop him only made it grow.

He pushed Elton’s bedroom door open quietly, wanting to see for himself if his worry was founded. Reid held Elton against the wall by his neck, Elton’s feet dangling just above the floor, Reid’s other hand caressing Elton’s thighs. Elton was barely dressed, and every bit of skin that was uncovered was marked. His eyes were crossed, whether from lack of air or substances Bernie did not know, nor did he care. He slammed the door against the wall in anger.

Elton crumpled to the floor the minute Reid released him.

“What are you doing here, Reid?,” Bernie asked, stepping into the room, his hands fisted at his side.

“I live here, Taupin. What are you doing here? Surely no one let you in?”

“You live here? No, no, Elton kicked you out of his life. There is no way you live here.”

“Times change, Taupin, especially when you spend weeks wallowing in self-pity rather than fight for what you want. Elton knows he’s mine. He’s always been mine, Taupin, even his little jaunt with you could not change that. He begged for me to return to him. He begged for me to return home when you refused to acknowledge your relationship with him. He’s just so pretty when he begs, as I’m sure you know.”

Bernie watched as John expertly picked up Elton from the floor and tuck him into bed. “John?,” Elton whimpered, reaching towards him.

“Yes, darling, I’m here. I have to take a meeting with an unwanted guest. Rest, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured, kissing Elton’s forehead. 

Bernie felt the urge to vomit when Elton smiled up at Reid. He pinched his arm, refusing to believe this was not the same recurring nightmare he had had for weeks. “I don’t need a fucking meeting, arsehole. I need a stiff drink. I’ll see myself out.”

“I do believe that’s best, Taupin. Perhaps next time you’ll call ahead to ensure Elton’s free, yes?,” John asked, laying beside Elton. Bernie cried when he saw Elton curl into John, just as he would curl into Bernie at night, the trusting smile never leaving his face.

_ He’ll never be free, Reid. He’ll never be free of you, will he? _


End file.
